The Waiting Game

The power was back on and my cell phone was charged and staring right at me. Three missed calls from Sonya. I felt awful. For a moment, I considered picking it up and calling her back right then and there, but she was probably asleep and I still hadn't figured out how on earth I was going to explain things to her.

I hadn't let things go THAT far with Tami, but I had still betrayed my girlfriend's trust. I had, to whatever degree, been unfaithful for the first time in my life, and it was killing me inside.

I knew I needed to tell Sonya. No twisting things around to make me sound like the victim, either. But that would come later, when we could actually have a conversation. For the time being, I sent her a quick text explaining about the power outage and promised to call her after work.

Which sucked.

For the first half of the day, Claire barely acknowledged my existence, always finding something incredibly pressing to busy herself with whenever I tried to explain what had happened. She was professional, but dismissive.

Tami, on the other hand, just tried to avoid me altogether. I had hurt her more than I'd realized, and she seemed too embarrassed to even look me in the eye. Since I couldn't exactly talk to her with all the other people around the office, I had the bright idea of writing her a discreet letter of apology, explaining that I thought she was great, and I was so sorry that I had hurt her feelings.

She tossed it in the waste basket without even reading the thing.

I spent about 10 hours at the office that day, and every second of it was so awkward it felt more like 10 weeks. When I finally made it back home for the evening, I got out my phone and called Sonya.

"I love you," I started simply. Right off the bat, my tone of voice told her something was very wrong.

Every word took tremendous effort for me to force out, like I was pushing a boulder up a mountain. "There's... these two women at my new job. Last night, I—"

"Last night you WHAT?"

"One of them kind of had a thing for me and—I didn't push her away when I should have."

There was a long, painful pause while Sonya gathered her thoughts.

Our relationship had been going great. She was supposed to move in with me in a couple months. A year from now, we both knew I was probably gonna start shopping for a ring. What if my behavior last night had put a wrench in all that?

"How far did things go?" Sonya finally asked.

"Second base."

"What the fuck is 'second base'? Is that like a blowjob or something?" she snapped.

"What? No! It's, you know, second base. First base is kissing, second base is feeling a girl up, third base is—"

"So you spent all night making out with some random girl and grabbing her boobs?"

"No, it was just for a couple of seconds, then I stopped it. I swear."

She made me sit through another of those horrible pauses.

"You promise that's all?"

"I promise. And I promise it will never happen again."

"This is so fucking lame, Michael."

"I know, babe, I'm so—"

She hung up.

"Sorry."

The rest of the week creaked by in pretty much the same miserable way, with Claire and Tami refusing to talk to me, and Sonya refusing to answer her phone or return any of my emails. I was so scared of losing her, I even considered flying back out east to see her in person—but ultimately accepted that she wasn't talking to me because she didn't want to. Maxing out my pathetic little credit limit to buy a plane ticket wasn't gonna change that.

I should have spent that first week going out, trying to get a feel for the city, making new friends and building a new life. But frankly, things were so weird I never felt like leaving my apartment. So instead, I cleaned and unpacked, organized all my shit, and then cleaned everything all over again. I filled what free time I did have discovering just how terrible most television shows really are when you watch them all by yourself.

When Saturday rolled around and I carted my dirty clothes downstairs to the community Laundromat, I stumbled upon Claire, just as she was cramming a load of wet clothes into the dryer. We both froze awkwardly at the sight of one another.

We were all alone. After four days of getting the brush-off from this woman, I finally had her cornered. Finally had an opportunity to explain myself:

"Claire, please just hear me out."

"No need, Tami told me what happened. Honestly, I kind of expected more from you."

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry things got out of hand. But I had to stop it before we went any further. I didn't want anybody getting hurt."

She frowned at me and shook her head. "No, you just didn't want YOU to get hurt. Look, I respect that you're not the kind of person who fucks around behind his girlfriend's back, but I told you—I TOLD YOU—that Tami was in a vulnerable place and you still took advantage of her."

"Whoa, whoa—I never took advantage of her! She was the one seducing me! I never did anything to lead her on!"

"You knew exactly what she wanted and you did nothing to discourage her. You let her keep coming onto you all night because it was stroking your ego to have some hot chick batting her eyelashes at you."

Claire walked right up to me, her icy blue eyes flashing with anger:

"And then, at the worst possible moment—when she was all excited and happy to have someone being affectionate with her for the first time since her breakup—you pushed her away. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

I looked down at my shoes. "I guess not," I sighed.

"And there are other people out there," she choked, fighting back tears. "People who would treat her so much better than you did. People who would love her and cherish her—but instead she set her sights on you."

And then it hit me, all of a sudden. Everything about Claire clicked into place. She wasn't just mad at me for hurting her friend—she was jealous of me. I looked into her eyes, realizing that Claire was hurting, too. Maybe worse than any of us.

"It's Tami, isn't it? That big, unrequited love you were telling me about the other night. It's your roommate."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she snapped.

But I did. There was a sudden, desperate fear in her eyes now that I'd brought it up. Fear of being found out.

"Claire, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. Does she know?"

She continued to glare at me, furious. But then, ever so slightly, her shoulders slumped, and all at once the steam went out of her. Claire's face fell and she just shook her head. She'd been holding back a tidal wave of a secret for god knows how long, and the pressure finally overwhelmed her.

The tears came back, more freely this time, and Claire slumped against one of the unused washing machines, trying desperately to force her sobbing under control. I sat down beside her, and when I went to wrap a reassuring arm across her shoulders, she didn't move away.

Halting words spilled out of her between breaths of air: "She's the best thing to ever happen to me. She's the best thing in my whole life. We do everything together! If I told her it would just scare her off."

"How long have you two been friends?"

"Less than a year, but—but I've never felt like this about anyone before. It's so great, but it hurts SO MUCH."

I hugged her, firmly as I could, trapping her inside the warmth of my arms.

"Does she even know you're gay?"

Again Claire shook her head.

"Look," I whispered soothingly, "under the circumstances I know I'm probably the last person in the world you'd even think about taking relationship advice from—but you need to tell her. If she's really your friend, she won't push you away. You need to trust her to do the right thing."

"What if everything changes?"

"Of course everything will change. There's no going back from an 'I love you.' But look at what's happening to you—This is tearing you up on the inside, and it's only gonna get worse."

After a few more deep breaths, Claire finally got herself together and withdrew from my arms, apologizing for the wet spots her tears had left on my shirt. She looked hard into my eyes and managed to quirk her lips up into a bittersweet, twisted smile.

"I don't get you, Michael. You're, like, a stupid asshole and a really nice guy all at the same time."

"I really am sorry I hurt her. And I'd really, REALLY like to be friends with you two."

"Please don't say anything to Tami."

"Hey, it wouldn't be my place."

That seemed to reassure her, and for the next forty five minutes the two of us waited for our laundry quite amicably. We chatted about nothing particularly important, just being friendly with each other. Neither of us mentioned Tami.

When Claire went about folding her clothes from the dryer, I caught an eyeful of several pairs of skimpy little thongs and panties, in all shapes and sizes.

"You have some sort of fascination with my underwear?" she teased.

I just shrugged my shoulders, caught:

"Honestly, I'm trying not to think about how they look when you're wearing them."

She rolled her eyes.

...

When I got back to my apartment, I saw that I'd missed a v-chat invitation from Sonya. She wanted to talk to me! Praying that it was good news that awaited me and not bad, I clicked respond and waited for her face to appear on my computer monitor. When it finally did, oh man did she look beautiful. She had just gotten back from a run was still all disheveled. A tiny band of sunburn ran across her cute little nose. Sonya was a knockout when she got all dressed-up, but there was something adorable about the way she looked when she was a sweaty mess that just melted my heart.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," I said.

"You're an idiot," she answered.

"I am, it's true."

Then, ever so slightly, she smiled at me, and my whole world lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I miss talking to you," she sighed.

I poured out my heart to her, telling her all the million things I'd wanted to over the past five days. Made sure she knew that she was the absolute, uncontested love of my life.

"Alright, alright!" she finally laughed, putting a stop to my gushy ramblings. "Listen, as long as it really was just a little harmless fooling around, and as long as you don't go making a habit of kissing other girls behind my back, then I forgive you."

"Thank you! When you get here I promise I am gonna make it up to you by sitting down with you and watching a dozen of those shitty old romantic comedies you love. In a row."

Sonya's beautiful lips curled up into a sinister smile.

"Actually, if you really want to make it up to me—take of your pants."

"Yeah?"

"Just shut up and do it," she ordered, "I've been super horny all week."

I was only too happy to oblige. Positioning myself in front of the camera to give her the best view possible, I slowly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans. Then, without needing to be prompted, I teasingly slid my boxers down and stroked my cock until it was nice and hard for her.

We both did love to put on a show.

Sonya clapped in appreciation, her cheeks turning pink with desire at the sight of my exposed penis. "Aww, I missed him, too," she giggled.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable without all those sweaty workout clothes?" I asked.

In response, Sonya quickly stripped off her shirt and her horribly constrictive jogging bra, letting her big, soft tits bounce free. My cock gave a little lurch at the sight.

"Oh yeah, we're gonna have to do this more often," I moaned, clicking the "record" button on the video player.

The image on the screen only showed Sonya from the chest up, but from the motion of her arm it was clear that she was already starting to play with herself down below. She bit her lip and let out a little sigh of pleasure.

"Are you recording this?" she asked.

"Of course, are you?"

"Of course!"

My cock flexed even harder in my hand.

"I want—I want you to tell me what she looks like," she moaned.

"Who?"

"The girl you made out with. I bet she was really sexy."

Sonya was rubbing herself harder now, her breathing heavy and aroused. It was kind of an awkward question, and I honestly couldn't fathom what was going through her mind, but I decided to humor her, anyway:

"She's one of the hottest chicks I've ever seen. Adorable face, long black hair, tits out to here..."

"Even bigger than mine?"

"Way bigger."

"Oh, I'll bet she was all over you. Kissing you, groping you, rubbing those great big boobs in your face. I bet you loved every second of it.

"No, it wasn't like that—"

"Shut up," Sonya panted, continuing her story. "I bet you pulled her shirt off and sucked on her nipples like your life depended on it. Then she reached inside your underwear and stroked your cock until you were so hard you couldn't stand it anymore."

The dirty talk was really getting Sonya going. I watched the image on my computer as she raised her free hand to her beautifully aroused nipples and gave them a tug. My fist eagerly closed around my cock and kept stroking as she continued:

"Then I bet you bent her over the sofa, ripped off whatever slutty underwear she was wearing, and slowly buried every inch of yourself into her slit. How did it feel? How wet was she? What was it like feeling her ass bump up against you as you bottomed out? Did you grab her tits while you fucked her? Did you reach around and grab hold of those big boobs? Did you squeeze them as hard as you could? Did she moan for you? Did she shriek with pleasure?"

I grunted with arousal, my head spinning from the mental image my girlfriend was painting for me. Over my computer speakers, I heard the wet sounds as Sonya frantically rubbed her pussy offscreen. The motion vibrated her tits like crazy. Her words became practically incoherent with pleasure:

"I'll bet she—ooh—she came so hard with you inside her. I bet she woke the fucking neighbors with all her screaming. And then—oh my god—"

"Keep talking," I moaned, already feeling my climax approaching.

"Then I'll bet you pulled out and came all over her tits. Just everywhere. I bet you made a fucking mess of those things. And then—and then—"

I was boiling with arousal. Every muscle tightened, preparing for release—

"And then her sexy friend came over and licked it all off."

"Aah!" I screamed, spurting into the air in full view of the camera.

The visual of my orgasm finally pushed Sonya over the edge into her own euphoric oblivion. She sucked in powerful mouthfuls of air, shaking all over before finally—blissfully—collapsing in her desk chair.

"Sonya, holy shit!" I smiled, shaking my head in disbelief. "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know, I just—all week I've had this image in my head of you with that other girl, and as much as I hate to say it, it's been making me really horny! I've actually been fantasizing about it, can you believe that? It's crazy. Fantasizing about being there, I mean. About watching. Is that weird?"

"I don't know about 'weird,' but when you started talking about it—that was so damn sexy, honey. You saw me, I came in like thirty seconds."

"Come on, that wasn't all me. I'll bet you've been thinking about fucking those two ever since you met them."

"Well, yeah, but—just daydreaming. You know."

Sonya smiled, now more adorably disheveled than ever. "Mikey? How about next time you start daydreaming about those girls, you give me a call and... maybe we can daydream about it together."

When I woke up at 10AM the next day, I was already sweating from the intense heat. The weather forecast was predicting one of the hottest summers on record, and I believed it. I made a beeline for the swimming pool downstairs—this time remembering my keys and swimsuit.

Halfway inside the gate, I stopped in my tracks, utterly bowled over by the view of Tami climbing out of the pool. She'd worn a bikini this time—a skimpy one. Flimsy strips of dark blue fabric struggled to cover her bodacious body. Rivulets of water dripped down her curves as she crossed the patio area and took a seat next to Claire, who was soaking up the morning sun in yet another of the tiniest bikinis I'd ever seen.

I wasn't sure where I stood with them, at the moment. Things seemed to have chilled out between me and Claire, but would Tami still give me the evil eye if I said hi? Or would it be even worse if I ignored them?

Claire saw me first, and the fact that she actually smiled at the sight of me was a huge relief. I strolled over—

Tami was not so friendly. Her dark, lovely eyes met mine, silently ordering me to stay away. I stopped in my tracks, held up my hands in surrender, and simply told her, "You deserve someone better than me."

She looked down questioningly at Claire, who mouthed the words, "Talk to him."

Tami nodded, grabbed her towel, and grudgingly jogged over to me—throwing an inadvertent bounce into her steps.

"Tami, I just want to say I'm sorry for—"

"The pool's kind of a public place to have this conversation, don't you think? Mind if we go somewhere else?"

That little voice in the back of my head warned me that going someplace alone with this girl might, once again, not be the brightest idea. But we needed to mend things and I figured the odds of anything EVER happening between us was about as likely as me ever getting into a real life swordfight.

I opened the door to my apartment and led her inside.

"Geez, you settled in fast," she said. "The last time I moved, I took like four months to get everything unpacked."

"Yeah, well, I've had a lot on my mind the past few days and it's helped me think."

She sat down at my breakfast table, now wrapped in a fluffy beach towel that did nothing to disguise the shape of her chest... Focus, Michael! I distracted myself by pouring my guest a glass of orange juice. I spoke quietly:

"Look, what happened the other night—I handled that in pretty much the worst way possible. I swear I never meant to lead you on, it's just—I wasn't expecting you to look the way you did when you walked out in those 'pajamas.' Sorry, I'm making excuses again."

Tami looked down at her glass of juice, thinking.

"How long have you and Sonya been together?" she said at last.

"Three years, almost."

"Tom and I were together for four. I thought he was the one, you know? We were each others' first."

She looked up at me, her lip twitching down into a frown. "It wasn't all your fault, what happened the other night. You told me you had a girlfriend. You dropped it into the conversation a propos of nothing. That should have clued me in right there that you weren't interested, but I just—I just needed—"

"You don't have to explain," I said.

"Have you ever been dumped?"

"No."

"It fucks with your head! Things between me and Tom weren't even BAD. They were going well. Too well, it turns out. It started to feel inevitable that we were going to wind up together. Get married, kids, happily ever after. And all of a sudden he started freaking out that he'd only ever had sex with one girl. Like he was entitled to some macho right of passage, fucking all kinds of women before he was forced to settle down."

"This guy dumped you because he liked you too much?"

"I know! What kind of sense does that make? And ever since then I've been going crazy trying to figure out what the hell is going on with me. I'm not even acting like myself! I mean, look at you—I was throwing myself at you, even after you said you were in a relationship. What kind of trampy bitch does that? I've never done that ever in my life."

"Hey, I wasn't exactly complaining."

Fifteen minutes later, we'd finished making our amends and were back at the pool with Claire, cooling down in the chlorinated water. Claire had forgiven me, Sonya had forgiven me, and now Tami had forgiven me. Everything was finally right in the world.